


Drunk Art

by S_naly



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Break Dancing, Champagne, Grand Prix, Grand Prix Final Banquet, M/M, Pole Dancing, banquet, ep10
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-18
Updated: 2016-12-18
Packaged: 2018-09-09 12:53:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8891518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/S_naly/pseuds/S_naly
Summary: Victor Nikiforov has attended plenty of Grand Prix Banquets and they’ve lost their flair. But when what seems like an innocent dance battle occurs, the usually cool air of polite society changes into smoldering warmth.
 
-
Or, what happened when Yuuri got drunk during the Grand Prix Banquet.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This work was unbeta-ed, unbeta'd, un-beta-ed??? So any mistakes are mine. However all characters belong to Mitsuro Kubo, and so forth. 
> 
> Please enjoy. Tell me what you think, and send kudos. They bring me joy.

Yuuri Katsuki snuck into the banquet an hour later than the specified time.  Originally, he wasn’t planning on attending it at all, but he thought that since his skating career was over, he should at least see through the banquet. If he was an hour late to avoid introductions, so be it. After all, this was meant to celebrate the end of the Grand Prix, but for him, it showcased all the greater skaters before him and how much of a failure he was in comparison. Carefully, as to not make a scene, he slowly closed the entrance behind him and attempted to scoot along the walls to a hidden corner. Skaters and their coaches clinked their glasses together in toast to the end of the season and the beginning of another. Soft chatter floated throughout the ballroom emphasizing the polite society and the pleasantly cooled air kissed his cheeks as if to mock him and remind him of his performance. 

Just as he was about to reach his destination, a hand clapped him on the shoulder and began dragging him towards the crowd of people. Panicked, Yuuri spun around to see who the offender was but instantly recognized his coach, Celestino Cialdini, and turned away. How could he face his coach after that performance, after all the hours and sweat spent on practicing? Casually, or so Yuuri hoped, he attempted to slide Ciao Ciao’s hand away, but it held firm,  bringing him further into the room. 

“Yuuri,” Celestino grinned, “where have you been? I’ve been looking all over for you. I have someone I would like you to meet.”

They were getting closer and closer to the populated area of the room, and with each step Yuuri took, his shoulders slouched deeper and his gaze never removed itself from the floor. How he wished the floor would swallow him up now. 

“What’s wrong, Yuuri?” Celestino asked, “You look so glum. Have you had anything to drink? To eat?”

Instantly, Yuuri leapt onto that notion. “I haven’t yet, and I’m hungrier now that the Grand Prix is over. If you’ll excuse me,” he said, making his leave, but not before formerly apologizing.  

Coach Celestino sighed, but released Yuuri anyways. He was going to introduce him to Victor Nikiforov, in hopes that Yuuri meeting his idol would cheer him up, but perhaps food can offer the same comfort. “Okay, Yuuri, but remember, we need you in top shape for the next competition.”

His shoulders still hunched over, Yuuri made his way to the drinks table. If his churning stomach wasn’t a sign to avoid consuming any food, then the way his heart was rapidly beating itself against his ribs definitely proved it. Quickly he downed the tall glass of, what he assumed was, sparking apple cider and took a deep breath. His nerves calmed slightly, but the only thing he has in his sight, other than avoiding any socializing, was the exit. If he stuck to the walls, no one would notice him making his escape. He gulped down another glass. The refreshment table was just on the right wall of the room, surely he could make it without anyone coming up to him. More sweet, bubbly liquid ran through his throat, cooling his throat but warming his body. Yuuri reached to his tie and loosened it slightly, wondering when the mocking, chilly air changed, and eyed the line of champagne glasses next to him. 

He should stop and leave. Definitely leave.

But, maybe he should wait until a path cleared. 

Either way, another glass joined the line of empty veterans, and another, and another. 

A sparkle of light reflecting off someone’s head caught his eyes and Yuuri grinned. Victor, Victor Nikiforov stood there, not more than 20 feet away from him, and he was not going to miss the chance to speak to his long time role model. Quickly, he made his way through the crowd, keeping his sights remained on Victor, when a small object crashed into him, or maybe he crashed into the object? 

“What are you doing, you dunce,” shouted a blonde blueberry from the floor.

Yuuri paused his warpath and took a good look at the angry blueberry, “Do I dance? That’s a silly question. Ice skaters all dance, but from the looks of it,” he grinned down at the blonde, “I have a few more years of dancing than you.” 

The blueberry jumped to his feet, gritting his teeth in anger, “You may have years, but when I win the battle next Grand Prix,  my dance skills will reign supreme.”

Running his hand through his hair, Yuuri smirked at the blonde, “You say you want to have a dance battle?” He snatched the blonde’s hand, dragged him to the emptiest spot he could find, and instantly broke out into his fanciest top rock moves to the classical music playing in the background. “Try to keep up, pipsqueak.”

Yuri Plisetsky growled in anger, but held back his desire to strangle the other Yuuri. He may only be 14, but he was above dancing against a drunken fool to prove a point. And with that, Yuri turned away and made his way back to the conversation he had before being bumped into. 

“Are you really going to let that go,” Mila, his annoying red-haired rink mate, said. 

Yuri gritted his teeth, mentally repeating that he was not going to rise to her baiting.

“I guess you really are a pipsqueak,” she laughed and turned to face the still-dancing Yuuri.

Huffing, Yuri turned on his heels, tugged his tie loose, and joined the crybaby on the dance floor. He will win this, just like he’ll defeat this buffoon and Victor at the next Grand Prix. Then, he’ll laugh and mock Mila to his heart’s content.

|o0o|

Victor chuckled politely at what the two men were saying. If he was honest, he had no idea what they were talking about. Throughout the entire night, Victor was bombarded with repetitive and dull conversations that always started with “Your performance was beautiful, beautiful,” and ended with “What will you surprise us with next?” To which he’ll only answer with a secretive smile and a suggestive wink. 

‘Where was Yuri?’ he wondered. Victor had planned the entire night on using Yuri’s win to shift conversation and escape. He meant to keep the small blonde next to him for that very reason. Subtly, Victor rose on his toes, hoping to see him from his vantage point. Frankly, at this moment, he’ll take anything to escape from this plain atmosphere.

As if answering his prayers, loud clapping echoed through the ballroom and every conversation quieted down to see where it was coming from. Victor, who finally saw what was happening in front of him, whipped out his phone and started recording. Yuri Plisetsky, the vicious little kitten, was dancing against a dark-haired man, who, Victor couldn’t help but notice, as the man did a odd handstand, had a very nice butt. He could see Mila clapping and barely containing her laughter, while a crowd began to grow around the two dancing, and couldn’t help but to excuse himself from the two gentlemen who were still talking despite the ruckus, and rushed towards the dancers. Right on time to capture the beauty of the dark-haired man’s body, as he engaged his tight core and held up his body with a single hand. 

“Mila, hold my phone. Take pictures, or something,” Victor beamed, shoving his phone into her hands. “I’m going to join them too!” 

Just as he was about to jump in, Yuri pushed him away, snarling, “Don’t get involved. This is my fight against the other Yuuri.”

Pouting, Victor stood back and watched the two try to one up each other. Yuri was so mean. He just wanted to liven up the party, but if Yuri was so determined to win, he’ll let him have his way for now.

Meanwhile, dark-haired Yuuri was captivating. His body flowed so gracefully into moves that emphasized the trained muscles hidden underneath his button-up. A wretched blue tie swung loosely around his neck and his dress shirt was slowly becoming unbuttoned, but with each movement, it offered tiny glimpses at the beautiful, lithe body that Victor wanted to learn more about. Victor followed Yuuri’s body and his breath hitched as took in the sight of Yuuri running his hand through his hair. Such a simple movement, but since the two began dancing, the room gradually heated up into a smoldering warmth, which meant that the sinful sweat running down Yuuri’s forehead held up the hair he ran through, showing more of his marvelous face. 

A different loud commotion shifted Victor’s attention away from his current fascination, and from across the room, he could spot his long-time friend, Christophe, giddy with excitement, as he watched a pole being erected near the dance floor. Victor sighed, of course, Chris would bring out his pole dancing skills whenever he had the chance. He expected it sooner or later. 

He turned his attention back to the two dancers and noticed that despite his young age, Yuri was panting quite heavily in exhaustion while the other was continuing dancing to his full potential. Victor was positive that the only thing keeping Yuri standing was his complete determination to not lose. Yuri would probably murder everyone in the room and himself if it ensured his win. Victor shivered at the thought, perhaps he should teach the angry kitten about losing gracefully.

The cheers intensified as Yuuri spotted the pole and waltzed toward it. As he grasped it, he flicked his head in the direction of his competitor and smirked. The sensuality that poured from that face struck Victor and lit a spark in his chest that hasn’t been there for quite some time. 

Too caught up in his thoughts, Victor failed to truly appreciate what was occurring before him. The audience squealed in delight and small Yuri cursed beneath his breath, while backing away into the crowd, seceding from the fight.

It seems like Yuuri dropped his pants.

What a glorious sight.

Vkusno.

Before Victor could fathom this wondrous gift, Yuuri pulled himself up the pole and began to surprise him even more. The elegance, the beauty, the  _ eros _ \- who would have thought this seemingly shy Japanese man knew how to pole dance? Sonnets should be written to commemorate the steady, carnal gaze that Yuuri mastered. Symphonies orchestrated for the way Yuuri’s muscled thighs held the pole between them. His firm, round globes that some would call a butt should be written down in the history of art as a masterpiece. Victor decided, then and there, that he will introduce himself to this man, and no one could stop him.

And then Christophe took the stage, or rather the pole, in nothing but his bikini briefs.

While the crowd cheered and swooned, Victor panicked as he lost sight of the dark-haired heart-throb. He stood on his toes in hopes to spot the messy mop of hair, but he couldn’t catch a glimpse of him from the mob. He just found his muse and instantly lost him. What was he going to do?

In the midst of Victor’s frantic thoughts, he overlooked Yuuri strolling back to the pole with a bottle of champagne in one hand and another pouring down his throat as he drank as much as could. When he reached the pole, he handed Chris a bottle, placed down his, and struggled to unbutton his soaking wet shirt.

If they could, the cheers and screams from the audience redoubled in volume, and the flashes from photographs being taken flickered in the ballroom as if there was originally a disco ball placed and used. To Yuuri, he was simply taking off a sticky, champagne covered shirt, but to everyone else, he was stripping down to his bare skin. 

To say Victor was surprised when he finally spotted his favorite, pole dancing along with his friend would be an understatement. Seeing the two majestically moving and engaging every muscle within their body to do so made him want to learn how to pole dance as well, not because he wanted to be the one next time to join Yuuri on the pole, no, of course not. It was an art. And Victor loved art. 

But in that instance, there was something he loved more. The adoration and recognition in Yuuri’s expression as he leapt off the pole, made his way towards Victor, and clenched him in a tight embrace. 

“Victor,” Yuuri groaned drunkenly, as he grinded his lower half against Victor’s body, “after this season ends, my family runs a hot spring resort, so please come.”

Honestly, Victor didn’t know what to do. Here he was salivating for this man the entire night, preparing to introduce himself properly, and suddenly the same man was grinding his very hard lower half against him. He was stunned, even more so, as Yuuri gazed into his eyes and pleaded, “If I win this dance-off, you’ll be my coach, right?”

‘This man can have anything he wants,’ Victor thought.

“Be my coach, Victor,” Yuuri exclaimed, wrapping his arms around him.

Victor stared deeply into Yuuri’s eyes and flushed. He’s been an idol to many, a role model for others, and inspiration to younglings. He’s given everything and anything to his career for the past twenty some odd years, but this was the first time he was being pursued and seduced, rather than him bringing in others. Perhaps, he should start taking, rather than giving.


End file.
